


I Know You

by AHeilanCoo



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Eventual Smut, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Reader-Insert, Romance, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHeilanCoo/pseuds/AHeilanCoo
Summary: You had only ever loved one man in your life, and you thought him long gone. When you and your group stumble across him again, he is nothing like the man you have thought about every day since the end.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm new so please be gentle with me! I haven't written anything fictional in over 10 years and even then it was just school stuff. 
> 
> I know Negan and Rick's daughter is an overdone trope, but I had this idea literal years ago and I just needed to write it down.
> 
> I hope it's ok and please let me know if you spot any glaring errors.
> 
> Also, this chapter includes that scene, Negan's first, the one you're all probably sick of reading about - sorry!
> 
> xx

_Fuck. You were going to be late, again. It was only the second week of your residency and you'd already managed to piss the Chief Resident, Caleb, off three times. You take a few gulps of your lukewarm coffee before returning the mug to the cupholder, grabbing your bag and getting out of the car. Fumbling clumsily with your keys you manage to lock the door and set off towards the hospital's main entrance._

_You weren't even technically late yet, but, ever the anal retentive, Caleb always took attendance at least ten minutes early and would spout off some shit about early being on time and on time being late. Fucker. The text tone pings on your phone, pulling you from your thoughts. It's Hannah._

_"Where are you?! He's starting to rage..."_

_You let out an annoyed sigh and begin to respond. If your nose wasn't buried in your phone you would have seen the man standing in the middle of the entrance. As it happened you only noticed him when you ran straight into his leather clad torso. The force of the collision threw you back slightly but muttering a half-hearted apology you stepped around him and carried on, still working on your reply to Hannah._

_"Hey!" A deep voice calls from behind you._

_"What?" You turn your head but continue walking, pissed that someone is trying to delay you further. The man lifts his large hand, revealing your keys to you._

_"I think you might want these back." You come to a standstill and your face softens. You hadn't even noticed you'd dropped them._

_"Thank you. And sorry... ...again," You say, making your way back down the corridor towards the man as he advances to meet you. His sheer height enables him to cover about twice the distance that you do and when you meet, he holds the keys out in your direction. You wrap your fingers around the fluffy peach keyring but when he doesn't release his grip you look up to find him studying your face._

_For the first time you look at him properly, a warm smile has erupted on his face, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes; you find yourself drawn in by them, inviting but sad. Another text tone snaps you out of it. Probably Hannah again. He's still holding your keys. You look from his face to his outstretched hand and back again before raising your eyebrows expectantly at him._

_"Sorry Doll, just..._

_...Jesus, if all the nurses looked like you I'd never leave this place," His smile morphed into a cocky grin and you rolled your eyes at him._

_"Doctor." you say, tilting you head and stealing a quick glance at your phone. Two minutes until you were officially late and not just Caleb late._

_"Sorry?" his eyebrows furrow almost imperceptibly and you feel his grip loosen on your keys. Pulling the keys gently from his grasp you begin to walk backwards._

_"Apology accepted" You deliberately ignore the questioning inflection he had used. His grin widens and you mirror it before turning to face the direction in which you're heading._

_You chuckle to yourself. Wow he was gorgeous. You impressed yourself that you’d managed a witty reply when he looked like that. Gorgeous, but probably old enough to be your dad. Still, you wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Your phone pings again, fuck, one minute. Looks like you're running the rest of the way._

_The entire day was shitty, Caleb made sure of that, but at random points throughout it your mind would meander back to that handsome man in the entrance and you found yourself grinning inexplicably when it did._

* * *

  
Your knees throbbed and you could feel the familiar fuzziness of pins and needles creeping into your lower legs.

You stole a glance at Maggie beside you, even in the orange glow of the headlights you could tell she was worryingly pale. Her breathing, however, hadn't become any more laboured since she'd been taken off the stretcher and for that you were thankful. You took a few seconds to focus on your own breaths, counting them in and out in an attempt to remain calm.

Carrying on breathing this way you looked around the clearing, people were scattered around between the vehicles all staring towards the centre where you and your group knelt. They called themselves the Saviors, a misnomer if ever you’d heard one, these people didn’t share a savior like bone between them.

You spotted a handful of women scattered throughout the predominantly male group. All of them, regardless of gender, were wearing blank, expressionless faces. That’s what scared you the most. It demonstrated a complete apathy to whatever was about to happen, was this a regular occurrence for them?

The man with the moustache was the obvious leader, if any of them were Negan it had to be him and thankfully his face was not familiar to you in the slightest. He was stood in the centre of the clearing, hands on hips seemingly waiting. You had a horrible feeling he was waiting to be cruel, to ramp up the tension and make you all suffer a bit more.

Looking down the line of your friends, a million what-ifs raced through your head. What if you’d given more voice to Morgan’s concerns? What if you’d told your dad, Rick, the secret you’ve been keeping? What if you’d had the supplies to look after Maggie back in Alexandria, then she wouldn’t be here, suffering right now.

You knew these thoughts were useless, but you’d shared so much with these people, highs and lows, you loved them all and you couldn’t bear not knowing how this night was going to end.

Your eyes moved to Carl and he returned your gaze giving you a small nod, a nod that said I’m OK and you don’t need to worry about me. He’d learn as Judith got older that you could never stop worrying about younger siblings, no matter how strong they were.

“Let’s get the other ones, right now” The one with the moustache said to no one in particular. You sense everyone’s focus shift to him, and he runs his gaze down the line before jerking his head to look to his left.

“Dwight” He shouts. With an affirmation, a man with shaggy blonde hair emerges from the crowd.

“Chop, chop” Moustache orders. Dwight emerges further from the darkness staring at the line allowing you to see his face fully, the left side of it is pink and scarred terribly and you’re able to recognise it as burn scarring.

You can’t help but wonder how he was burnt that badly but is somehow still alive, a burn like that would almost certainly cause you to lose consciousness and consciousness is necessary in a world where the dead walk.

Dwight moves behind one of the vans and you notice he’s carrying a crossbow, Daryl’s crossbow. They've got Daryl. You look beyond Maggie to your dad but if he’s noticed he’s not showing it.

Turning back to the van as the second door is opened you gasp quietly as your fear is confirmed. Daryl and Michonne are unceremoniously dragged into the clearing revealing Rosita and Glenn behind them. Your eyes start to prick with tears, and you feel the lump rise in the back of your throat. The four of them are manhandled to their knees at the end of the line. All of your fighters are here and for the first time since the end of the world, you see no plausible way out.

“All right, we got a full boat” You can hear moustache talking but you’re numb to it. You’re staring at the ground in front of you, lips parted, head swimming with white noise, tears slowly forging paths down your face.

“Let’s meet the man” Those words bring you out of your stupor. The man? Meaning Moustache isn’t the leader, he isn’t Negan. Your breath becomes shallower and the change alarms Abraham who whispers a few words of encouragement to you. You look up to meet his eyes knowing how obvious the panic must be in them.

Tears are streaming freely down your face now and you can feel them dripping off your chin onto the hard ground. You fix your stare on the spot where they fall.

You hear the RV door open with a low creak followed by the occupant’s footsteps as he emerges. He pauses, the air is thick with tension and time seems to slow down. You can hear Daryl's ragged breathing and Maggie's occasional whimper. You keep your eyes trained on the ground, watching each tear fall and soak into the already damp dirt. Finally you hear the man inhale.

“Pissin’ our pants yet” You screw your eyes shut almost to the point of pain. You didn’t need visual confirmation; you would recognise that voice anywhere. You gasped and kept your head down, willing him not to notice you and your body not to betray you.

You didn’t consider yourself religious, in fact quite the opposite, but in the months that had passed since you’d first heard Negan’s name you had been praying every day that it wasn’t the same Negan you had known before. The same Negan that you had known and loved.

It’s not a common name, it’s a fucking stupid name, you should have known it could only be him. If you had heard his name before learning of the Saviors you’d have been elated, you'd have searched for him just to be able to hold him again, to inhale his scent, to feel his stubble softly pricking your skin when he kissed you. Not anymore.

Now his name was synonymous with this group, His group. You found yourself mourning the loss of the Negan you had known while this new unfamiliar Negan stood before you. The Negan who had forced your family to their knees and held your fate in his hands. What this Negan would do to you all was a mystery because he was a stranger, you knew nothing about him.

You tracked Negan’s boots up and down the line with your eyes, keeping your head deeply bowed. Emotions you hadn’t felt since the beginning were crashing together as if they were waves from different seas, fighting for dominance in your head.

You hadn’t shared the possibility that you knew Negan with anyone precisely because of the chance that it was true, you didn’t want to be thought of as someone who would care for and love a tyrannical leader like him. Your reputation would be marred by him and that's something you couldn't endure, even before.

You knew Negan was speaking and had been for a while, but you couldn’t hear any of it through the tangle of thoughts in your own head. You moved your eyes to the left and could see his boots standing in front of Rick again. You had hoped they’d meet one day, never in your wildest dreams did you think it would be under these circumstances.

The initial shock had subsided, and your tears slowed. You tried as hard as you could to force your mind to clear, focusing again on your breathing. In and out, slowly.

“…you’re gonna pay.” You were able to tune into Negan’s words.

“So now,” He paused and lowering his voice, continued “I’m gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you.” You surreptitiously touched your fingers to Maggie’s after hearing a louder whimper escape her lips. She clutched your fingers softly, her weakness evident.

“This,” Negan continued, and in your peripheral vision you could see the top of what looked like a baseball bat appear near his boots.

“This is Lucille…” You balked, dropping Maggie’s hand. Lucille, his wife. Negan continued speaking but you were once again lost to your thoughts.

He’s named the bat after his wife, or was she here? You pushed that stupid, fleeting thought away; of course she wasn’t here, she was dying before any of this even started. You’d seen how weak she was with your own eyes. Which means that he’s named his bat after his dead wife. The floodgates open and all the emotions from the last few minutes rise in you again, rise until you’re unable to stop them bubbling over. Your mouth emits a pained sob that you hear before you even know it’s come from your body.

The ensuing silence is deafening, and you can feel every pair of eyes in that clearing trained on you, burning holes in your skin. Smaller, softer sobs rise from your chest but get lost in your throat, making no sound but causing your head to gently jerk a few times.

Another agonising pause follows before you see Negan’s boots stalking back down the line towards you. Yet again you find yourself praying to a god you don’t believe in that he will walk right past you, but you know you will not be afforded such luck today. The scuffed boots stop directly in front of you, toes pointed towards your knees.

The bat comes up from his side, slowly towards your face and, to your horror, you now see that it is wrapped in barbed wire. Without turning your head, you glance quickly towards your horrified father, not knowing what you were trying to convey to him, just knowing that you needed to meet his eyes. They were wide with fear, his pupils flitting quickly between your face and the bat.

The hard surface of the bat makes gentle contact with the underside of your chin and a pressure is applied, forcing your head up slowly. You can feel a barb biting your skin and wince slightly at the pain, but you will not move your head any faster than it is being forced to move. You don’t want to see the face that you know is waiting for you at the top.

Your vision is blurry from the tears still escaping your eyes, but you track Negan’s body as he forces your head back to look at him. He’s still wearing that leather jacket, it’s bigger on him than it used to be but that’s expected when food is a scarcity.

When your eyes finally meet his you see a split-second flash of recognition pass over his face, quickly replaced by a hard stare. You had seen this exact stare once before; one that made you feel like he was looking straight through you.

You scan over the rest of his face, the lines you had committed to memory were deeper and his salt and pepper scruff consisted of more salt now, echoing hardships every single person still alive today has experienced. His nostrils were flaring slightly and from that you knew he didn’t know what to do, his mind was racing.

Your eyes meet his again, heavy lidded and hazel. They had lost all of their invitingness, the sadness had won. You find yourself pleading with him with your own eyes, pleading for him to not do what he was threatening, trying to sway him to another option. He was different, but this man still looked like the Negan you knew, and that man was capable of reason.

Your gaze is drawn by his tongue dragging slowly across his lower lip, signalling that he’s made a decision. You blink slowly and, exhaling a resigned breath, look up to meet his stare once again. You’re confused to see his eyes sparkle momentarily before he opens his mouth to speak.

“Up.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your immediate fate is revealed to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments and kudos on the first chapter.
> 
> I'm approaching the before Negan slightly differently, so we'll see how that goes.

Once again you felt the pressure from the bat under your chin, only this time it was urging you to your feet.

“No!” Maggie breathed, grabbing onto your hand and trying to keep you kneeling next to her. Giving her hand a squeeze, you turned to face her, trying to tell her it was ok, but no words would come out of your mouth. Instead, a small smile ghosted over your lips as you released her hand.

“Up, _now_.” The push under your chin became more forceful and you felt the now familiar sting of barbed wire. Knowing you had no other option, you placed one foot after the other under your body to come up to standing. A tingling sensation crept down your lower legs as the blood rushed back into them, making them actually feel part of you again.

When Negan was satisfied you had obeyed his command, he pulled the bat away from under your chin, and in one fluid motion it was up on his shoulder. He arched his back and a hint of a smug smile appeared on his face, his eyes probing yours

Taking two steps backwards Negan lifted his gloveless hand to the space in front of him and beckoned you forward with his forefinger. You heard several low protestations from the group around you, but you wanted to keep everyone as safe as possible and to achieve that you knew you needed to submit to everything he was asking of you.

You take cautious steps towards Negan your eyes fixed on his, all the while searching for something beyond the sadness. He halts you with a flat palm and then twirls a finger in the air before pointing it behind you. He wanted you to turn around. The smug smile was still plastered on his face. He was enjoying this, the sick bastard.

You scowled at him before turning to face the line of people you loved most in this world. Every single one of them was currently expressing deep worry in their own way. Carl was attempting to kill Negan with a glare. Eugene was weeping and you wished you could wrap your arms around him, you wished you could wrap your arms around all of them.

You think back to Negan’s earlier promise of beating the holy hell out of one of you. Your breath quickens and the pulse in your temples becomes a foghorn warning you of the imminent danger.

He’d chosen you. He brought you up here to kill, to erase every memory of the hurt that he’d caused Lucille. He wanted to take the easy way out, have someone else pay for his mistakes. Your eyes glaze and you feel the blood draining from you face. None of your muscles will move. Normally you chose fight or flight, now you were choosing freeze. A new you to match the new Negan.

Your wrists are yanked to the base of your back, your nose wrinkling at the shooting pain it causes in your shoulders. The distinctive zip of a cable tie was heard as your wrists were bound together tightly.

Negan’s hand clasps tightly, possessively over your shoulder and you jump slightly.

“Arat,” He booms, breaking the long silence. You sense someone moving in on your left. What is happening?

“Yeah,” you’re shocked to hear a woman speaking and you turn your head to see where the voice came from.

Arat is slight and about your height. Her curly hair is pulled up, but some bleached wisps have escaped to frame her face, making her look softer than if it were all scraped back. You look to her eyes and they dart to meet yours, catching you staring. She narrows them at you but you don’t look away, you refuse to be embarrassed.

“Take her home,” Negan orders Arat while using his grip on your shoulder to push you towards the other woman. Home. You stumble slightly on the uneven ground and Arat’s hand wraps violently tight around your bicep, pulling you back up to full height. Home.

Once she’s satisfied that you’re no longer a fall risk she drags you towards a waiting vehicle. Your mind is racing again. Home. Are you going back the Alexandria? You turn to look at Negan while being pulled away, trying to ask him what is happening but, from the shock of everything, you find yourself unable to formulate a sentence. Negan watches you silently, his body unmoving.

Arat shoves you face first into the back seat of the car and you hear words beginning to tumble out of your father’s mouth. He’s far away, but you don’t need to hear the individual words to know he’s pleading for your life. The noise deadens completely when the door is slammed after you.

You desperately scrabble up to a sitting position and look out of the rear window of the car. Negan and Arat are engaged in conversation. Negan’s eyes meet yours and he grins. Before, that would have been a sight that would make you grin back, your smile reaching from ear to ear. But here and now, with you at his mercy it felt like a threat.

Arat heads towards you and Negan turns back to the line, swinging the bat back onto his shoulder as he does. The drivers’ side door opens and Arat gets in, allowing you to hear that Negan has resumed his monologue that had been interrupted by your sob. Meaning that one of your friends, and not you, was going to die here tonight. Wet tears spilt over from your eyes and began their journey down your face for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

The engine starts and the car slowly begins its journey out of the clearing. You take a final blurry look out the rear window to see Rick shaking his head and gesturing desperately in your direction.

Turning away from the heart breaking scene, you rest your head against the back of the seat and the tears flow from your face onto the cool leather. Looking out of the side window you see the car turn onto a road and your eyes scan the passing trees and occasional walker.

“Where are we going?” You ask after a while. Your voice is hoarse and timid, not like you at all.

“The Sanctuary.” The sharp response comes. You scoff inwardly. Sanctuary, really? The Saviors live in The Sanctuary, how twee. 

So, you were going back to his home. To what? Remind him every day of the vows that he broke. Rolling your eyes, you try to be rational. It’s likely that he wants you to work for him, even doctors that you’d had affairs with were valuable commodities in the apocalypse.

Now with a slightly clearer head you realised that, after he had noticed you were there, Negan was the quietest you had ever heard him. It was an obvious change from the constant talking when he first exited the RV. You imagined that his Saviors would be wondering why the sight of you had caused the vast difference in him. They weren’t stupid, and he’d gone right back to it as soon as you were gone.

Right back to it, back to murdering one of you.

Numb, you return to staring at the trees beyond the window, clearing your mind of any and all thoughts. There was nothing you could do about it now, so why worry. You’d never felt so passive before. Seeing him again had taken all the fight from you.

Rows of trees turned to open fields and you began counting the stars scattered throughout the sky to pass the time. Arat drove through empty towns with burnt out buildings and abandoned cars littering the streets. You noted the absence of a blindfold. He wasn’t going to let you leave the Sanctuary and therefore didn’t need to hide its location from you. You had no more tears to give and your dried cheeks were tight and uncomfortable.

In an effort to keep your mind busy you go back to the stars and your thoughts flit unexpectedly to the International Space Station, were they still alive up there? They didn’t have an infinite supply of food, so you assume they would die at some point if they hadn’t already. And if they had the virus, they would turn. Walkers in space. You let out a chuckle at the thought of it.

“What is so fucking funny?” You meet Arat’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, pissed off seems to be the only expression she has. You had _almost_ forgotten she was there the journey had been so quiet.

“Nothing,” you mumble. From what little interaction you had shared, you got the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the humour you’d found in your strange thoughts. You look out at the sky again imagining your zombie astronauts.

* * *

You have no idea how much time has passed since you left the clearing but when you feel the car slowing, the sun has begun to show itself on the horizon.

Lifting your head from the back of the seat you look out and see what, at first glance, looks like a herd. A sharp intake of breath alerts Arat to your thoughts and she lets out a cruel laugh at your expense.

Ignoring her, you study the walkers more closely. Stakes and chains keep them tethered to the spot and, as you drive through the gate, you notice a poor legless bastard hanging from the chainlink fence. A rudimentary first defence, although who would be stupid enough to get bitten by a stationary walker. You imagined it was probably designed to be psychological, putting potential attackers off before they even tried.

“Wait here.” Arat barks, putting the car in park and exiting. Was she trying to be funny, you'd counted multiple armed men since coming through the gate. You were feeling discouraged, not suicidal.

You take the opportunity to examine the structure in front of you. It was immense. Even lowering your head didn’t allow you to see the top of the building through the windscreen. Large ducts weave in and out of the drab exterior nodding towards the buildings previous use. A factory, if you had to guess. The oppressive size and gray tinge screamed anything but Sanctuary.

The door beside you opens and Arat’s hand is once again on your bicep, fingers managing to press exactly on the bruises you knew were forming from earlier. Wincing at the pain you comply and swing your legs onto the dusty ground. Your arms are heavy from being in a fixed position for so long and you can feel a chill starting to set into your fingertips.

“How many people live here?” You ask Arat as she dragged you towards the closest door. Ignoring you, she tightens her grip and picks up the pace. As you approach the doorway you look up and are just able to see the tip of a chimney before you’re pulled into the dark building.

Inside, Arat leads you down corridor after corridor. Every single one looks exactly the same; dimly lit with breeze block walls and more doors than you can count.

You’re still yet to pass a single person, they’re probably all still asleep. Asleep and content. Completely unaware of anything happening outside of this compound. You’re bitterly jealous of these people you haven’t even met yet.

You spy a red door on your left that you’re convinced you’ve already passed once on this journey. She’s trying to confuse you, disorient you. Mission accomplished; you want to tell her. You have no idea where you are.

Arat pulls you both to a halt outside a nondescript door moving her body behind yours. You snap your head to the side when you feel the chill of a large blade against your wrist, desperately trying to see what she was doing.

“Don’t try anything smart.” She spits before jerking the knife up and releasing you from your makeshift handcuffs. You flex your wrists feeling a warmth rushing back through them. Arat moves back to your side, replacing the knife in its sheath, and unlocks the door in front of you.

“I’ll get you when he’s back.” She mutters, depressing the door handle and swinging it inwards.

You’re pushed across the threshold and finally her hand releases your arm. Before you can turn to look at her the door slams shut, and you hear the metallic click of the lock sliding into place. You stare at the door. A prisoner. Although you expected it, it adds yet more despondent thoughts to your brain.

Collecting yourself you notice deep, angry looking indentations on your wrists and attempt to rub them away. Your fingers slowly massage their way up from your wrists to your shoulders, working out the knots that they find along the way.

You continue kneading your aching muscles while finally surveying the room. It’s small and bare, with only a wooden desk and chair against a wall. The same breeze blocks from the corridors make up the walls and there was a line of grimy windows opposite the door. They were too high for you to reach, even if you wanted too. Plus you could see that none of them had any opening mechanism. As a result, the air was stale and left an unpleasant sensation at the back of your throat.

Dropping down into the chair you fold your arms on the desk in front of you. Negan will have killed someone by now but here you remain, numb to it all. You’d witnessed uncountable numbers of deaths in the past few years and for some reason, now, your brain had decided that one more didn’t matter.

You rest your forehead against your folded arms and groan with frustration at this side of you that simply the sight of Negan has uncovered. You can only hope that he hasn’t revealed your relationship to everyone. You’re petrified that you’d be held responsible for his actions because you knew him once. They wouldn’t believe that you hadn’t seen even a hint of the man he is now.

You allow your eyes to close and think of Judith, the reason you had been fighting to make the new world as good as it can be. She was the hope rising from the ashes of humanity. You smile softly and feel the adrenaline in your body finally ebbing away, exhaustion taking its place. You don’t fight it and memories of better times fill your head as consciousness slips away from you.

* * *

_“Marshalls?” You ask the room, slipping your sweater over your head and checking your appearance in the lone locker room mirror. You sigh. The slow day had removed most, if not all, of the make-up you’d so carefully applied this morning._

_“I’m in”_

_“Definitely”_

_“Erm does the pope shit in the woods?” Hannah adds. You give her a quizzical look, mouth open in a half smile, as everyone within earshot chuckles._

_“Oh shit,” she realises her mistake and pulls her bag from the locker, “I always mix those idiots up.”_

_“Idioms,” you grin, tossing your arm around her shoulders as you move towards the corridor. Hannah rolls her eyes and smiles at the ground. She could seem like the biggest airhead at times, but Hannah was as smart as a whip and the combination of the two was what you found so damn endearing about her._

_At the hospital’s entrance you say goodbye to the colleagues who weren’t joining you and start the journey to the nearby bar. The four of you chat happily and dissect Caleb’s surprisingly good mood today._

_Marshalls wasn’t the most prepossessing place from the outside, which in this city was a good thing; it kept the tourists out. The inside however was a different story. The walls, floors, bar and furniture were all old and wooden and it always smelt faintly of spilt liqor. It was rare to see newcomers, so every face was a friendly one. Others would call it a dive, but you loved it._

_You can hear the friendly atmosphere and it lures you up the iron steps and through the unassuming door. It’s your turn to get the first round and Hannah joins you at the far end of the bar while the others venture upstairs in search of a table._

_Leaning gently against the bar you relay the order to the barman, and he sets about making your drinks._

_“Fresh meat.” Hannah says lowly in your direction. Nodding her head towards the door._

_“Fresh, beautiful meat.”_

_“Hannah, you’ve got…” Your eyes follow Hannah’s gesture, and the rest of the sentence escapes you when you see him. The handsome man from the entrance. Turning back to Hannah your eyes widen._

_“That’s him” you say, failing to hide your excitement._

_“No, the entrance man?” You nod quickly and her mouth opens in a big smile._

_“Now I understand why you didn’t stop talking about him for a week straight.”_

_“It was not that long.” you say through gritted teeth, but she just laughs and begins to move to the other side of you._

_“Don’t look now,” She whispers into your ear on the way past. Does anyone actually listen when someone tells them that?_

_Your eyes shift up to the mirror behind the bar and you can see him advancing into the spot that Hannah had created next to you. You meet Hannah’s eyes in the mirror and see a toothy grin plastered on her face as she nods slowly at you, shaking your head gently you smile back and let out an amused breath. She was constantly trying to set you up with someone, maybe just this once you wouldn’t push so hard against her._

_You can sense his presence next to you and glancing down at the bar see his forearm leaning against the wooden surface. His scent drifts over to you rich and musky, with the slightest hint of cigarette smoke. Smoking was usually a turn off, but for the first time, you find yourself unbothered by it._

_Risking a peek at his face in the mirror you find yourself unable to look away from it. The lower half is covered with a stubble he hadn’t had before, flecks of silver dotted sparingly throughout the dark hairs, like stars in the night sky. The creases in his forehead are pronounced due to his scrutiny of the collection of liqor behind the bar. Your gaze falls on his eyes and you can see the fatigue in them as clear as day._

_Those tired eyes jump up, meeting yours in the mirror and you inhale sharply. He inspects your face for a few seconds before his head tilts. You hold the eye contact he’s initiated._

_“I know you,” His look doesn’t change, and you realise he’s trying to place you. A warmth rises in your face, betraying your embarrassment that he doesn’t remember the encounter to the same level of detail as you._

_“W-we met, at… …in the hospital entrance,” You mentally curse yourself for being so not chill about the situation. Since when did you stutter when talking to men._

_You wait for his mind to click but as each second passes the worry that he’s forgotten you completely increases tenfold. Finally, his questioning expression relaxes, and he smiles._

_“The doctor.” He says proudly. Relief washes over you that he at least remembers a little bit of the meeting that you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about._

_“Guilty as charged.” You turn away from his reflection and introduce yourself properly to him. You’re vaguely aware of Hannah paying for the drinks. She leaves yours on the bar before going upstairs in search of your colleagues._

_“I’m Negan.” He returns the courtesy, and you hold your hand out to him, he gives it an amused glance before enveloping it with his own and delivering a firm shake. His hand was rough and strong, exactly what you’d expect from a man who looked the way he did. The barman diverts his attention from you, and he orders a whiskey, breaking the contact._

_You sip your drink and can’t help but think about his hands and how they’d feel caressing up your thigh, striking your bottom or maybe even wrapped possessively around your neck._

_You’re suddenly aware then that he’s looking at you expectantly. Shit, he must have asked you a question while you were lost in your dirty thoughts._

_“Sorry?” You blurt out, hoping he was clueless to where your mind had just been and willing him to repeat himself._

_“Apology accepted.” He grins and brings his glass up to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid. So, he remembers more of your first encounter than you initially thought._

_“Touché.” You smirk, lowering your head slightly and looking up at him through your eyelashes. God, you were being so cliché._

_“I just asked how long you’d been at the hospital.”_

_“Not long, nearly two months.” He raises his eyebrows, seemingly shocked by your response._

_“Well, technically two years but only two months as a job.” You blurt out._

_“And how the fuck does that work?” He gives you a quizzical look. He’s right, it doesn’t make any sense._

_“I studied at GW so most of the clinical training was done in that hospital. I know those corridors like the back of my hand.”_

_“Which explains why you don’t feel the need to look where you’re fucking going.” He teases and you share a warm laugh as he takes another sip of his drink. His tongue runs slowly along his bottom lip to catch an escaped drop of liquid._

_“Do you work there too?” You ask, knowing the answer but needing something to stop his tongue triggering yet more indecent thoughts._

_“No, I was just there with my…” He stares at the glass in his hand and frowns momentarily before continuing._

_“… my friend. They’re not well and were having some tests done that day we first met.” You nod, sympathy developing on your face. His expression changes, eyes narrowing and mouth down turning a little._

_“They’re there at the moment, hooked up to all these fucking machines. Doctor says it’s just for observations, but they look fucking terrible.” You exhale sadly and press your hand in gently over his bicep, comforting him. This friend must mean a hell of a lot to Negan for him to be so affected by it._

_“I needed a break, that’s why I’m here.” He lets out a substantial sigh “I get that luxury but there’s no reprieve for them. It’s not fucking fair.” His eyes connect with yours and you realise you now know the reason they seem so sad. You give him a small smile and his whole face changes yet again; the sadness is gone, replaced by an apologetic expression. The brief moment has passed and you pull your hand away from his arm to pick up your drink._

_“Fuck. Sorry, you don’t need to hear that shit, no one does.” He takes a large gulp from his glass and sets it down on the bar._

_“Hey, it’s ok. I - I really don’t mind.” You assure him, shaking your head gently. “Besides, it’s not healthy to keep all of that bottled in and if you’re going to talk to someone about it who better than a doctor. It won’t be a burden on me because I witness it every day anyway.”_

_He seems to mull your point over in his head while looking down at his hands. You hear a chime. Negan pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and inspects the screen carefully._

_“I’ve got to get back.”_

_“Back? You’ve been here less than five minutes; I’d hardly call that a break.” You respond, trying to keep your tone light and mask the selfishness in your reply._

_“I’ve got to.” He reiterates._

_“Lucky friend.” You give him an understanding nod and his eyes scan your face softly._

_He picks up his drink to down the remainder of the liquid and you take the opportunity to get a card out of your purse. You’d spent weeks thinking about this man, he is not leaving without your number. He sets the glass and a bill on the bar before turning to you with a sad smile._

_“Here’s my card, if you ever want to talk or have a good time or something.” You offer the card in his direction and he takes it between two fingers. A smirk appears on his lips._

_“A good time?” he teases you with his eyes and you kick yourself internally. You really need to think about what you’re saying before you let it out of your mouth. You let out a confident chuckle._

_“I didn’t mean it that way, but if the shoe fits…” You raise an eyebrow and smirk._

_He laughs gently._

_“Goodbye Doc,” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly husky. He doesn’t wait for a reply and instead turns on his heel and strolls out of the bar._

_Shaking your head, you retrieve your drink. Actually having a conversation with Negan, however short, has revived the desire that had finally begun to die down. He seemed so kind and caring but with a rough, flirty edge and a sprinkling of colorful language to boot. Suddenly you believed that the perfect man for you existed and you were sure as hell going to make sure you got him._


End file.
